


Delayed Gratification

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Dom Misha, Dom/sub, Drunk Jensen, Gags, JIB 8, Jus in Bello Convention, M/M, Punishment, Spanking, Sub Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: Jensen got a little tipsy at JibCon 2017, and after their panel on Sunday evening, Misha decided he'd had enough of his partner's behavior.





	1. Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is based heavily off of the Cockles panel from JibCon 2017, which if you haven't watched it, you really should. There are specific references to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3qQaNN6BbU) part, and although it's not entirely clear what, exactly, Jensen is revealing to Misha, the Fandom Bureau of Investigation has deduced it to be [these](http://www.zumiez.com/ethika-bear-creek-boxer-briefs.html).
> 
> Also, there's really no sex in this? Something must be wrong with me. :P

“Jensen.”

And the motherfucker just smirked at him, eyes alight with equal parts mischief and alcohol. “Misha.”

Misha rolled his head back and focused for a long breath on the hotel room ceiling. He closed his eyes and drew a second, deeper breath and then, eyes still closed and head still tilted up, asked the ceiling more than his partner, “What the fuck was that?”

“Hmmm.” Jensen’s self-assured hum and the quiet chuckle that followed had Misha gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. “What was what?”

“You are being incredibly. Insolent. Flirting. Flaunting. Worse than usual this year, Jensen, I swear…”

“You don’t like my underwear?”

“Ohhhh we’re so far beyond the underwear, and you know it.” Finally, he leveled his chin and his gaze to focus his eyes, piercing and stern, on Jensen. He let himself take in the bright spark in the green irises, the slightly blown pupils, the upturn of his lips in a self-satisfied smirk. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Jensen frowned and pouted slightly as he turned his head to the side in a pose of genuine consideration. “That I didn’t get you a matching pair?”

Misha’s response was to close the distance between them while holding Jensen’s gaze, and when they were body-to-body, he bit out, “I know what you’re after, but you’re so drunk I can’t even punish you the way you want.”

It took half a second for Jensen’s alcohol-fogged brain to catch up, and when it did, his eyes and face fell with the disappointment, and he let out a quiet, “Oh,” as his eyes rested downcast on the floor.

“Yeah.  _ Oh _ .”

“‘M sorry.” And for all that Misha wanted to stay angry, he felt his hold on that anger slipping away as Jensen toed at the carpet and continued to study the floor. Jensen genuinely looked sullen and apologetic, like he hadn’t thought this plan all the way through and the realization that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted was now putting a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“I know.” He reached forward with both hands to catch Jensen’s fingers and knit them together on either sides of their bodies, but said no more. He let the touch sober and comfort them both for a full minute before leaning his forehead in to rest against his partner’s. “When you’re sober, I suspect you’ll have some buyer’s remorse about our panel.”

“Did I really flash you in front of an audience?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jensen shook his head side to side but didn’t disconnect the touch of their foreheads. 

“You also asked me to ‘pick a leg.’”

“I was really asking for it.”

“It’s taking literally all of my self control not to take you across my knee right now.

“So why don’t you?” Jensen’s vocal inflection slipped from soft and sullen to rough with want, and Misha’s response was a nearly involuntary roll of his hips, grating rough denim over rough denim at the groin.

“You know why.” Misha mumbled the response against Jensen’s lips as prelude to a kiss. Then he locked their lips together, soft and reassuring, and brought his right hand up to tilt Jensen’s chin and deepen the kiss. He kept at it, barely grinding his hips, tongue licking slowly into his partner’s mouth, until Jensen began to whimper under the ministrations. At the sound, Misha pulled back softly and returned them to forehead-on-forehead as he reveled in Jensen’s ragged breathing. “You’ll have to settle for a different kind of punishment, I think.”

“Mish…”

Misha tilted slightly to be sure Jensen could see the pointed rise of his brow. “Really sucks to have something you want dangled in front of you with no hope for immediate gratification, doesn’t it?”

“Motherfucker.”

“Thing is, I’m still going to spank you, because you’ve got it coming. Probably doubly so, because now you’re forcing me to wait until you’ve sobered up enough to give consent when I’d prefer just to get it over with right now. But as it stands, you’re drunk, and we have to meet the others for dinner.  _ Where you’ll be drinking water _ ,” he stressed, raising a pointed finger for emphasis. At Jensen’s pout, he added a raised eyebrow back to the expression. “Don’t.”

“Did you see it was a bear?” The expression was so hopeful and endearing that Misha caved, if only slightly.

“Despite my state of shock, I did manage to make that out, yes. He had a nice outward jut to his nose.”

“So… you like them?”

Misha sighed and pulled him in to kiss him again, this time with a hint of passion but no tongue - a reassurance. “You creatively labeled your dick as my property. Yes, Jensen. I like them. I like them a lot. I can’t wait to take them off you.” Another kiss, and then solid eye contact. “After. Dinner.”

“You’re so mean.”

“Oh, I’m a Grade-A Jackass,” Misha agreed with a nod as he patted Jensen’s shoulder to usher him out the door. “This coming from the guy who just sat there and drank coffee while Jared destroyed my credibility as a renter.”

“I’m not that overgrown child’s keeper, man.”

Misha snorted. “‘ _ Man _ ’?”

Jensen shrugged and turned back to raise two hopeful eyebrows. “Sir?”

“Better.”

 Misha reached down to give Jensen’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, and then steered him toward the elevators, toward their adoring fans, and toward their friends.


	2. Sober

Watching Jensen sober up over the course of dinner was a special kind of treat, because it seemed to settle in on the younger man’s shoulders exactly what he was in for later, each time Misha called the waitress and requested a refill of Jensen’s water glass.

He kept to water himself, too - drinking before a scene, especially one where he intended to dole out pain as punishment, was no more advisable for him than it was for Jensen. But he kept his eyes on his partner, and he noticed Jensen was taking the orders seriously. He downed 5 glasses of water over the course of a 2-hour dinner, and made 3 separate bathroom trips.

Misha met him halfway back to the table on the final one. He laid a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and pinned him on the spot with a piercing gaze in a quiet hallway that would lead back to the restaurant, where their friends were lost in jovial conversation, completely unawares. “You’ll tell them you’re tired. You partook a little too much today, you need to right yourself before Jailbreak, and you’d like to call your family besides. Then you’ll go up to the room. Call Dee, take a quick shower, and wait for me. You may meditate. You may rest. You may not put on clothes and you may not touch yourself. Any questions?”

“No Sir.” It came out quiet; appropriately subservient. Misha nodded in acknowledgement but said no more as he made his own trip to the men’s room, then returned to the table, to their friends. By the time he got there, Jensen was gone.

He relaxed in his chair between Rob and Jared, letting their easy, tipsy conversation roll off of him. 

“Your boy was in rare form today,” Rob mumbled against his ear after a few minutes, leaning in close to keep the comment between the two of them. “You going up soon?”

Misha hummed affirmatively against the rim of his water glass.

“Can I come?”

Whether the double entendre was intentional or not, Misha couldn’t say, but it made him give a huff of laughter anyway.. “Put an honorary in front of that and we’ll see.”

“Kinky.”

“Obviously.” Misha downed the rest of the water in his glass, set it down precisely, and pushed back from the table to stand. 

“Misha! Misha, you can’t go. You caaaaan’t.” This from Jared, who pouted at the end of his declaration. “All my friends are leaving me.”

The response was a glomping sort of hug from Bri and Adam, and as Jared dissolved into giggles, Misha waved and made his exit.

He arrived at the room five minutes later to find Jensen, as instructed, nude and stretched across the king bed. His feet were crossed at the ankles, hands folded behind his head, and eyes closed. He was peacefully relaxed, except for the half-mast erection jutting out from his middle. “You’re beautiful,” he stated plainly, giving nothing away as he stepped into the room and locked the door and deadbolt. “Did you know that?”

“C’mon, Mish…”

Misha toed off his shoes and stepped up to the bed to rake his eyes over Jensen’s prone form. He studied for a long moment, until Jensen started to squirm under the scrutiny. “Still so shy. So humble. Someday you’ll learn to take a compliment from me.” His fingers came down to trail lightly over the exposed right flank. “You’re ready now, I think.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Hands and knees, Beautiful.” He spoke all the while in a soft, steady tone - confident but not cocky. And at the directive, he guided Jensen into the requested position, helping him back a bit, to the point that his toes hooked over the edge of the bed. “There.” One flat palm ran down Jensen’s spine to soothe him before he stepped back. “Take a few deep breaths. Bring yourself into the moment.”

“Yes Sir.”

A short huff of laughter at that. “You’re already in the zone, aren’t you? Good.” He peeled off his jacket but kept the t-shirt and jeans on. Remaining clothed while his partner was nude demonstrated more than just his dominance over Jensen; it was a showing of self control. He wouldn’t eagerly strip and fuck his partner hard into the mattress in a fit of heated emotion. He’d guide them both through the scene.

And so his clothes stayed on until the scene called for them to be removed.

“Do you remember why you’re being punished?”

“Because I was sassy on stage, because I flashed you in front of a crowd, and because I drank past the point that I probably should have stopped.” The roll of Jensen’s tone sounded a bit like a petulant child being asked if he understood why he’d been given a time-out, but one glance at the younger man said he’d slipped pretty far into sub space already, so Misha resolved to let it go. 

“Very good.” He stepped up again, squaring his body and bending his knees a bit, and then brought his right hand back and then swung forward to connect with Jensen’s left ass cheek - not hard enough to hurt, really. Just to test the waters. Jensen flinched, but stayed quiet. “I didn’t pack anything heavy duty because I came straight from Iceland, so my hand will have to do. What do you say to forty?”

“‘S a nice, round number.”

The response was a harsh crack of skin against skin. Misha let his inner Dominant rise to the surface, take over his body, consume his senses, and dole out the spanking. By the tenth strike, his hand tingled, and he landed that one especially hard, causing Jensen to cry out for the first time.

“Good… Good.” Misha paused; gripped the left ass cheek and rubbed at the tender skin, and Jensen squirmed and whimpered satisfactorily. “Do you need a gag?” Jensen trembled under his hand, but said nothing. “Answer me, Jensen.”

“N-- No Sir.”

“Because we’re in a public hotel, so if you’re going to be any louder than that, I’m going to gag you.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“Color?”

“Green.” Misha watched carefully from the right side of the bed as Jensen puffed out his cheeks and let out a long, slow breath. The exchange had been fluid, practiced - they’d fallen together into that place he loved to take Jensen, where they were both wearing a comfortable second skin, and they ebbed and flowed together in seamless motion. He shook out his arms before stepping back to resume his task.

Jensen broke on the 25th strike, throwing his head back to let out a strangled, open-mouthed cry. Without hesitation and with the same rhythm he’d been using to swing his arm, Misha stepped to his suitcase, dug out a ball gag, and shoved it into Jensen’s mouth. Their eyes connected for two silent beats - dark, electric; a shared, steady undercurrent. 

Misha held the gaze, silent and slightly imposing, until Jensen blinked. Then he resumed his place again.

Between the 30th and 31st strokes, he caught the sound of a sniffle behind a whimper. He clung to the tendrils of anger and annoyance that had prompted this spanking, pushing down the urge to go to his lover and fold him in close with comfort.

At 39, he pulled back and came down hard, so that 40, the height of Misha’s ability to generate momentum and the height of pain, came so quickly on top of it that to Jensen it may have felt like a single blow.

And then he gave in to his own needs.

Comfort, first. He guided Jensen to lie down on his side, and then Misha mirrored his position and drew him close, careful to avoid the tender skin of Jensen’s backside. He licked and kissed into a waiting, wanting mouth. He nuzzled Jensen’s slightly sweaty hairline with his lips and nose, kissed gently at the temple, stroked his flank… lulled him back down to Earth. It was a soft mumble of, “Thank you,” against his neck that made Misha smile and pull Jensen closer to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you need…?”

“I’m fine for now. You first. How’s your ass?”

Jensen snorted into the crook of Misha’s neck and nuzzled in the hollow by his collarbone. “Warm, but fine. Aloe tomorrow, probably?”

“Of course.”

“I’m… really sorry about…”

“It’s forgiven.” Misha paused and pulled back to look into Jensen’s eyes. “Long as you keep the bear underwear just between us from now on.”

“Deal.”

“Hey, Jensen?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re beautiful and I love you.”

Jensen didn’t respond right away. He leaned forward, smiled into the skin of Misha’s collarbone, nipped at it a bit. Misha knew on some level he was doing it to hide a blush, but he appreciated the affection and accepted it for what it was when he felt more than heard the low, sleepy rumble against his skin. “Love you too, Mish. Love you too.”

Jensen initiated the next kiss, and Misha could feel the first hints of need and want seeping out through the gesture. This kiss had force behind it, and Misha returned that force in kind, asserting his dominance once more with a thorough sweep through Jensen’s mouth with his tongue. 

When they pulled apart, Misha spoke into the space between them. “Rob asked me if he could watch.”

The response was a moan and a slight whimper. “He’ll be sad he missed the spanking.”

“Probably, but I punish in private and praise in public. What do you say to an audience for the next round?”

“Fine, long ‘s nobody touches me but you.”

“Of course. Rome is ours. Always has been, always will  be. I do like when you show off, though.”

“I might need more apple juice for that.”

“Not a chance.” But he kissed Jensen deeply with the denial. “After, though. If you’re good, I’ll reward you. What do you say?”

“Thank you.” Misha raised his eyebrows, and Jensen smirked and cuddled in close. “Thank you, Sir.”


End file.
